


i'm a fire and i'll keep your brittle heart warm

by shybear_styles



Series: i'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me [5]
Category: Formula 1 RPF
Genre: And now there's sex, Established Relationship, IT FEELS SO GOOD TO USE THAT AS A TAG, Jealousy?, M/M, Minor Character Death (Mentioned), because we don't get enough of it in this tag, boys being in love, i just want them happy and in love, sex in chapter 2 folks, that's the whole point of this, the final chapter is mainly charles being jealous and then realizing some things, third chapter is about spa and things get angsty
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-11-21
Updated: 2020-12-26
Packaged: 2021-03-10 02:15:22
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 5
Words: 16,448
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27656015
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/shybear_styles/pseuds/shybear_styles
Summary: Charles and Max navigate the 2019 season as boyfriends and rivals.
Relationships: Charles Leclerc/Max Verstappen
Series: i'm still trying everything to keep you looking at me [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1982944
Comments: 28
Kudos: 110





	1. Austria

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Ledger_m](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Ledger_m/gifts).



> Alright, folks, here is what most likely will be the last part of this series. 
> 
> This is not going to follow all the races, just 'cause. We're starting with Austria (one of the most iconic lestappen moments in history) and the plan is to have 4 more chapters, ending with Singapore (where we had another iconic lestappen moment).
> 
> The chapters aren't written yet, but I have a vague idea about each one so I'll let my brain run wide with them as it usually does and try to update once a week.
> 
> I wasn't sure about posting this in chapters, but Kamila convinced me to give it a try so please, don't leave me talking to myself *laughs nervously*. And let me know what you think! Comments are much appreciated.
> 
> I don't even have to say that this one is also for you, [babe](https://twitter.com/lan_wangjis)! Thank you for everything.

Max has been racing since he was 4 years old and has had his fair share of arguments and actual fights due to racing incidents, most of them started by him. He has a history of making rash decisions on track and racing a little too hard sometimes, especially during his first years at Red Bull when he was so desperate to win that he didn’t care about who was in front or next to him as long as he passed them.

Never in his life has a victory made him feel so strange.

It didn’t look like he’d even get on the podium for a while during the race after the issues with the car, but it pulled through and, before he knew it, he was chasing Charles down to fight him for first place. And what a fight it was; the thrill he got from racing his boyfriend like that reminded him of when they were both in karting, fighting each other every other week and then acting like moody teenagers afterwards. Those memories usually make him laugh and reminisce over how far they’ve come, but today they are way too close to reality.

He knew the second they made contact and he saw the red car going wide that the win was his and briefly felt bad that Charles’ first win wouldn’t happen today, but he pushed the thought to the back of his mind and focused back on his driving. Crossing the finish line and hearing the deafening screams of the Orange Army is one of the best feelings Max has ever experienced in his career and he was vibrating out of his skin with excitement as he finished the cool down lap and parked the car in front of the number one sign.

Somewhere in the back of his mind he knew that Charles wouldn’t be thrilled by how things turned out and he was annoyed by the news that the stewards would be looking into the incident later, but he was honestly too busy being congratulated by his team and drowning in the adrenaline of his first win of the season to be bothered by anything.

After giving the post-race interviews, he goes to his motorhome and takes a moment to himself. Now that he can reflect on the past hour, a feeling much like anger starts rising in his chest; he remembers how Charles completely ignored him in the cool down room, not looking at him even once and then fleeing the podium ceremony as fast as his legs could carry him. Max is pissed that his own boyfriend can’t seem to let go of his anger for one moment to be happy for him, pissed that he’s at risk of losing his podium if the stewards decide to agree with Charles’ crazy idea that his move wasn’t fair and pissed that the feeling of winning in front of the Orange Army for the second year in a row is now going to be tainted by Charles’ anger at him.

He remembers how, exactly a year before, he was celebrating the win with Charles and they confessed their feelings. They’ve gone through a lot since then and it only makes Max angrier that his boyfriend is too stubborn to at least pretend to be happy for him for a little while.

He’s quietly seething in his anger when Vicky knocks on the door and says that they need to make their way to the press conference. He follows her, determined to talk to Charles and give him a piece of his mind.

When they arrive at the hallway outside the press conference room Charles is already there with Mia, so Max marches straight to him and asks if they can talk in private. He sees Mia and Vicky exchanging worried looks, but his eyes remain on the other boy who is looking at him with a murderous look on his face.

He nods without saying anything, so Max turns around and walks towards the end of the hallway. He doesn’t look back, but knows that Charles is following him.

Max stops and turns to face the Ferrari driver, but before anyone can say anything, Valtteri appears. He looks between them in silence, looks at their press officers and walks off towards them, clearly not wanting to be dragged into whatever is going to happen.

“You shouldn’t have done that.” Charles’ voice breaks the silence. Max has never seen him so furious before, and that’s saying something.

“It was hard racing, Charles. You’ve done it plenty of times, including to me.” 

“That wasn’t hard racing, that was a dirty move and you know it. You didn’t have to push me off the track just to steal the position.” It’s clear from how strained his voice is that he’s trying to keep it down and Max wants to grab him by the shoulders and shake him.

"I didn’t steal it, asshole. We fought for it and I won, because I didn’t make a mistake. I'm not going to go easy on you just because we're dating. That's not who I am and it never will be." Max knows he’s being harsh and he can feel the hurtful words building in his throat; he wants to tell the other boy that if he's not happy with who Max is, he is welcome to leave. But he can't bring himself to hurt Charles like that, even when he feels so frustrated by his stubbornness that he wants to scream.

"I don't _want_ you to go easy on me!" He exclaims, voice raising and hands clenched by his sides. "I want to race you, fight with you on the track every week and share my wins and losses with you and have you share yours with me, but I can't just ignore what happened, Max!" He's breathing heavily, looking like he's trying to rein his feelings in again, but after a few seconds his shoulders sag, hands opening and face twisting into an anguished expression. "I don't know enough words in any language to describe how much I love you, and I am so proud of you for winning, but this was supposed to be my race and the fact that it wasn't an engine problem or bad strategy that took it from me _,_ but _you_ … That makes me so fucking angry that I can't even look at your face right now."

There isn’t much that Max can say to that. 

Before he can try to come up with something, they get called for what is probably going to be one of the most uncomfortable press conferences of their lives. Charles is visibly trying to put his mask of indifference back together, but he’s not being very successful.

 _Good,_ Max thinks bitterly to himself; at least now people will see that the Ferrari driver isn’t such a perfect statue only capable of smiling politely or self flagellating for every tiny mistake.

He tries to ignore the immediate guilt that surges in his chest for thinking like that and fails.

\----

The stewards rule that there was nothing wrong with how Max overtook Charles and declare it a racing incident. They’re both standing in the room when they make the call and Max stares resolutely ahead, fighting the urge to look at Charles’ face. He knows exactly what he’ll see there.

He wants to believe that, were their positions reversed, he’d be more understanding and supportive of his boyfriend, but now that he’s calmed down a little, he can admit that he’d be just as frustrated as Charles is right now, maybe even more. It’s the second time this season that the Ferrari driver was set to win but something went wrong in the last few laps, and Max knows all too well how the clusterfuck from Bahräin affected Charles.

With nothing left to say, they all leave the room. They’re flying back to Monaco together later today and, as much as Max wants to be petty and ignore Charles right back, he feels the urge to say something.

“Charles,” He calls and the other boy stops in his tracks, looking back at him. His mask of polite indifference is back in place, but Max knows him well enough to see that he’s having to work hard to maintain it. “Do you have a minute?”

It’s obvious that he wants to say no and just walk off, but after a few tense seconds he nods at Max. The Dutchman looks around, then motions for Charles to follow him and walks towards the bathroom, holding the door open for him and ignoring the looks that their engineers are giving them. He closes the door and locks it for good measure, takes a deep breath and turns to look at Charles.

“Please tell me that you’re not actually thinking that we’re going to have sex right now.” The Ferrari driver sounds a bit incredulous and Max chokes on air.

“What the fuck, Charles, no!” Max’s voice cracks halfway through his sentence and he feels his cheeks getting warm. “I mean… Not unless you want to?”

“Max!” He’s leaning back against the counter looking affronted and okay, the joke wasn’t well received. 

“I’m sorry, I had to.” At his boyfriend’s unamused stare, he continues. “No, I just wanted to talk somewhere private.”

And nothing else comes out of his mouth. He felt the urge to say _something_ , but didn’t really think about what it’d be.

“Well?” Charles asks, both eyebrows raising in expectation.

“Look, I know that you’re mad right now and I am not going to apologize for overtaking you. You left the door open and I went for it, just like you would’ve done if you were in my place…” Charles opens his mouth as if to interrupt and Max powers through. “No, shut up, I need to say this: I won’t apologize for doing my job and seizing an opportunity to win the race but I am sorry that it came at the cost of your first win.”

“Are you really sorry or are you saying that because you know I’m mad and you don’t want to be stuck on a plane with me like this?” Is Charles’ answer and _fucking hell,_ he is infuriating. Max wants to just smash Charles’ head in. With his mouth, preferably.

“At least you know that you wouldn’t be very good company with your shitty mood.” Max shoots back and Charles looks ready to throttle him. The Dutchman rolls his eyes and crosses the distance between them, stopping when his shoes touch Charles’. “Of course I’m sorry.”

“I’m not forgiving you 100%.” Charles says reluctantly and Max holds back a smirk. “Don’t look so cocky, I mean it. I’m still mad and I’m going to be mad for awhile.”

“I’m sure you are, baby.” The Red Bull driver places one hand on Charles’ waist and the other removes the other boy’s cap and cups his jaw, bringing their faces closer.

“And I expect some groveling when we get home.” He’s trying to keep his voice level, but Max can hear the slight tremble in it and he can’t hold back his smirk any longer. He sees Charles swallow and leans forward to brush their lips together.

“Of course, baby, whatever you say.”

The Monégasque chokes down a sound and kisses him, hands coming up to hold Max’s face and neck. Max moves to press his entire body against his boyfriend’s, the hand on his waist keeping them close together and he feels one of Charles’ hands pushing his cap off and fingers grabbing his hair.

Max could blame the adrenaline from the race and their sort-of fight for how quickly things get heated between them, but it wouldn’t be completely true. It’s always like this with them, and as Daniel and Pierre like to say, even after nine months together they can’t really keep their hands off each other for long.

Charles is up on the counter by now, legs spread to fit the Red Bull driver with one hand still in his hair and the other firmly gripping Max’s ass, who, in return, is holding onto Charles’ jaw with one hand while the other is roaming beneath the other boy’s shirt. His boyfriend keeps making these choked off sounds in the back of his throat and Max wants to _ruin_ him, right here in this bathroom.

“Boys! You’re both needed at other places.” Charles’ engineer’s voice comes through the door, followed by very loud knocks and Charles breaks the kiss with a groan.

“We’ll be right there.” The Ferrari driver says after clearing his throat and looks at Max. “That was interesting.”

“You could say that.” Is the reply Max gives and he looks at the mirror behind Charles; his hair is a mess from his boyfriend’s fingers, face flushed and his lips are so red that anyone who looks at him for a couple of seconds will know what exactly he was doing. Anyone who looks at him or at Charles, who looks just as decadent.

“I’m still mad.” Charles mumbles at him and Max rolls his eyes fondly. He presses another quick kiss to the other boy’s lips and his jaw, next to where his thumb is resting. “And I wasn’t joking about the groveling.”

“I know you weren’t, _schatje_. I’ll grovel as much as you want once we get home… Or once we get on the plane, you can choose.” Max says suggestively and the hand still on his ass tightens.

“Stop that,” Charles says half-heartedly. “You look a mess and everyone's going to know what we were doing in here.”

“You don’t look much better.” He smirks but steps back so Charles can stand up and fix his shirt. “We can always say that we were fighting.”

Charles shoots him a very unimpressed look that is completely ruined by how flushed his face is and the mess that is his hair. The Dutchman laughs at him and bends down to pick up his cap and, once he stands up again, he’s surprised by Charles frowning at him.

“What’s wrong?”

“You know that I meant what I said earlier, right? That I’m proud of you for winning?” His voice has a tinge of urgency and Max is shocked.

“Of course I do, Charles.” He reassures him, but the other boy doesn’t look convinced.

“Because I am. I know what winning here means to you and even when I was so angry that I couldn’t bear to look at you, I was still so fucking proud of you for winning.” He says earnestly and Max loves this boy more than anything in his entire life.

“I know you were, baby.” He steps closer and grabs Charles’ hand, raising it to press a kiss on the back. “And I know that you’re going to be upset about today for a while and that’s okay. But I need you to believe me when I say that pretty soon you’ll be the one on the highest step of the podium celebrating your maiden win and I’ll be right there watching you and bursting with pride.”

“I don’t think it is going to happen so soon.” Charles’ voice is subdued and it kills Max to know that he truly believes the words he’s saying.

“Yes it is. You’re a fantastic driver with a good car who’s been having a pretty decent season so far. It’s going to happen sooner than you think, I know it.”

Charles’ eyes are shining and he is the most beautiful thing that Max has ever seen.

“I love you.” He says softly, squeezing Max’s hand.

“I love you too.” S _o much that I don’t even know how to say it._

“BOYS!” 

“We’ll be right there!” Max yells back and huffs in annoyance. “Can’t even have a nice moment with my boyfriend.” He says to Charles and is rewarded with what can only be described as a giggle.

“Stop complaining, we shouldn’t even be here.” He admonishes but there’s still a smile on his face.

They both make sure to be presentable before Max opens the door, being met by the stares of their engineers.

“Well then, boys. Let’s go, we have places to be.” He smiles and walks off, knowing that Charles is right behind him.


	2. Germany

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I have written smut and it was the worst experience of my fucking life, but this is what 2019 Germany!Max does to me. If you don't know what I'm talking about, please google the pictures from his podium and you'll know exactly how Charles felt watching that, because damn.

It’s still raining when Charles finally gets back to the hotel, leftover anger and disappointment for his mistake at the race mixed with the feelings from watching Max win another Grand Prix. After Charles fucked up his race and was forced to retire, he gave a couple of interviews and settled in his driver’s room to watch what was left of the race and found himself holding his breath every time his boyfriend’s car showed up on the screen; it’s weird to watch a live race knowing that he could be there if it wasn’t for his mistake, but there’s no denying that Max is an absolute pro when it comes to driving in rain and the way he handles his car does _things_ to Charles’ body.

There was something about him when he stepped onto the podium to claim his trophy, hair matted with sweat and face still slightly flushed that had arousal pooling in the pit of Charles’ stomach. It’s no secret that he’s very easy for Max, no matter the time or the place, and part of him wanted to track his boyfriend down, drag him to the nearest room with a lock on the door and just get on knees for him right there.

Whatever sensible part of his brain still works kept him from doing just that; they could meet up later at the hotel and the celebration would be a lot better in the privacy of one of their hotel rooms without the risk of anyone walking in on them, especially considering the amount of times that someone in the paddock saw something that they shouldn’t because both drivers got a little carried away.

A plan forming in his head, he approaches the reception desk and, with his best disarming smile, spins a story about how Max’s friends are planning a surprise to celebrate his win earlier and it would be just wonderful if he could get a spare key card to Max’s room so they can set up everything before he gets back, thank you very much, Miss, you are a lifesaver.

He knows that the only thing that’ll make him forget his disastrous weekend is being thoroughly fucked by Max until he can barely remember his own name. This is hardly the first time he’s been in this kind of headspace since they started dating; hell, it isn’t even the first time since the season began, Bahräin and how he begged Max to make him forget his despair at losing the win still fresh in his mind. 

He goes to his room, showers thoroughly and changes into a pair of sweatpants and a t-shirt. He debates putting on underwear and decides against it; he’s not planning on staying dressed for long after Max arrives anyway.

He grabs his phone and room key, puts the lube and a couple of condoms in his pocket and makes his way to Max’s room to wait for his boyfriend.

\----

Max is staying in a suite, because of course he is, so Charles made sure to leave just a fraction of the bedroom door open in order to be able to hear when the other boy arrives. He’s sprawled on the bed, resting against the obscene amount of pillows on it when he hears the beep of the door being unlocked. He locks his phone, places it on the bedside table next to the supplies and waits.

Max opens the door and yells out a “fuck” when he sees Charles on his bed, who only gives him an amused smile in return.

“Jesus, Charles, you scared me.” He grumbles out but his eyes roam Charles’ body appreciatively, stopping at his crotch; the Ferrari driver has been half-hard since he let himself into the room and he’s sure that Max can see it. His eyes move slowly back up the Monégasque’s body, move quickly to the bedside table and then back to his face, eyebrows raising. “Planning something, babe?”

“I don’t really know anymore… You took so long to get here that I was about to start by myself.” Something they both know is a lie, but Charles is hoping that Max will indulge him. He usually does. “I might still do it, come to think of it. You’re probably tired from the race, I don’t want to end up being disappointed.”

Max’s eyes flash dangerously and he makes his way to the bed, placing one of his knees at the foot of it and reaching a hand down to grab Charles’ ankle under the hem of his sweatpants. It’s ridiculous how that simple touch makes the Ferrari driver’s dick twitch, but it has already been established that he is very easy for Max.

“You’re right, I think you’ve had enough disappointment for today…” Max’s words hit Charles in a way he didn’t expect and from the way that the Dutchman’s face changes, some of it must have shown on Charles’.

“If I wanted to talk about my race I would go grab a drink with the mechanics. I thought that you might want to celebrate yours, but if I’m wrong I’m sure I can find someone else to keep me company.”

Charles would never, in a million years, do something like that and Max knows it. But he’s still feeling the despair and anger from the race like an itch on his skin and he needs Max to make him forget it and, if there’s one thing that the Monégasque has learned since they started dating, is that nothing gets his boyfriend going like the thought of Charles with anyone else. It was a surprise at first, how jealous the Dutchman would get when Charles got close or even paid more attention to any of his friends, especially Pierre, than to Max; then it became amusing and a source of many outstanding moments in their sex life.

It works like a charm this time around as well. Max makes a sound deep in his throat and uses the grip around Charles’ ankle to pull his body down the bed, making the Ferrari driver hold back a yelp. Max puts his other knee on the bed and leans down to cover Charles’ body with his own, bringing their faces together and supporting his body with a hand by Charles’ head.

“Is that how you want this to play out tonight, baby?” He asks in a low voice and the Monégasque wets his lips, seeing how his blue eyes follow the movement before locking into his own again. “Okay, we can do it like that.”

He leans down and _finally_ kisses Charles, who can’t hold back a groan at the feel of his boyfriend’s mouth on his. Max lowers his body to press Charles into the mattress and the kiss turns absolutely filthy, both of them groaning into each other's mouths and grinding their bodies together.

Charles briefly contemplates getting off just like this, but he’s been thinking about getting his mouth on Max for hours now and he’s nothing if not determined, so he pushes Max’s chest until he gets the hint and pulls back, face already flushing beautifully.

“What’s wrong?” His voice is rough already and Charles’ dick twitches.

“I have plans for tonight and they don’t involve coming in my pants like a teenager. Get up, c’mon.”

Max raises his eyebrows in amusement, but does as he’s told and gets up from the bed, Charles repeating his movement and reaching towards him to remove his shirt.

They undress each other quickly, hands running over their bodies until Max is completely naked and Charles pushes him to sit on the bed, stepping up to stand between his spread legs. Max looks him over appreciatively, his eyes dark and hands coming up to grab the Monégasque’s hips.

Charles soaks in his boyfriend’s desire for a few seconds and gets down to business, quite literally. He gets on his knees in front of Max, keeping eye contact and placing both hands on the Red Bull driver’s thighs to push them further apart so he can fit in the space between them.

He kisses one of Max’s thighs, biting it gently and moving up until he can nuzzle the crease where it meets his groin, feeling Max’s dick bump the side of his face. He turns slowly, placing a kiss at the base of his dick and grabbing it lightly to keep it in place as he runs his lips over it, feeling one of Max’s hands cupping the back of his neck.

He finally licks the tip of Max's cock, feeling his thigh tense underneath his hand and can't hold back a slight smirk of satisfaction. He gathers up the spit in his mouth and stretches his tongue out to lap at Max, wet and sloppy.

Charles takes him inside his mouth, feeling his own dick throb with how turned on he is just from finally getting to suck Max and he has to reach down and grab the base of it to try and calm himself down.

It doesn't really work and he starts moving his mouth on Max faster, desperate to make him lose control and ends up almost gagging on his cock, pulling back to get his breath back.

Max cups Charles’ face with one hand, tracing his swollen lower lip with his thumb and the Ferrari driver can’t resist the urge to lick it, placing his lips around the finger and sucking it gently just to watch the way Max’s eyes narrow at him. He lets go of it and reaches a hand to grasp Max’s.

“C’mon, love, you’re not going to break me.” Charles says and moves Max’ hand from his face to his hair, feeling how he immediately threads his fingers through the strands. “Fuck my mouth.”

A strangled moan comes from Max and he guides Charles’ face back to his dick, eyes focused on the Monégasque and how he grabs the Red Bull driver’s cock to hold it steady as he lowers his head to swallow him. Charles holds eye contact and takes Max as deep as he can, making sure to hollow out his cheeks and suck, enjoying the way that Max shudders at that.

His mouth is filled with saliva and he can feel it drip out of his lips, coating his hand and leaving him a mess, but he’s so incredibly turned on right now that he can’t be bothered to care. He hums around the cock in his mouth and feels it twitch, Max pulling his hair even harder at that and making him moan. The Dutchman starts moving Charles’ head then, slowly at first so as not to choke him, but Charles wants more.

So he takes his hand off of Max and reaches down to play with his balls, squeezing them in his hands and getting more of his boyfriend’s cock in his mouth. Max is guiding his head now and he loses himself in the feel of being completely at the other boy's mercy. He feels Max's dick twitching and hears the long moan he lets out and Charles feels his stomach clench in anticipation.

The Dutchman pulls his head away and Charles groans in frustration, trying to lean forward and get his dick back inside his mouth, but Max doesn't let him. He grips Charles' face with his other hand and pulls it up to look at it. 

"Fuck, look at you." Max says roughly and wipes the spit and precum from Charles' chin with his hand. "Get up, babe, c'mon."

Charles' legs are weak from how long he's been kneeling, but Max gets up and holds his waist to help him, supporting him as he gets feeling back in his legs and giving him another bruising kiss, licking into Charles' mouth like he's chasing his own taste inside of it. He maneuvers him towards the bed and waits until the Monégasque is lying comfortably on his back to lie down, partially on top of him, and reach towards the bedside table for the lube.

He starts placing kisses on Charles' neck and chest, stopping on both of his nipples and making the Ferrari driver arch his back to press closer, moaning Max's name like a prayer and feeling as the first finger breaches him gently.

Max doesn't stop there, continuing to kiss down Charles' body as he prepares him, driving him insane.

“I’m ready, I’m ready.” Charles says urgently and Max bites the inside of his thigh in admonishment.

“No, you’re not.”

“Max,” He whines. “C’mon, just fuck me already, what are you waiting for?”

“I don’t think you’re desperate enough…” He says like he’s talking about the weather and Charles groans in frustration, pulling the hair between his fingers and hearing Max grunt. “That’s not going to make me move faster, babe. In fact, I’m pretty sure that you need another finger.”

“Fuck you, no.” He breathes shakily and closes his eyes when he feels Max pull his fingers out. “Max, baby, _please_ I’m ready, I swear, just get your cock in me and _fuck me_ , please.”

He starts babbling in what he’s pretty sure it’s not even English anymore, but he’s too keyed up to make his brain work properly. He feels Max place a gentle kiss on his leg, moving up his body and kissing it in different places and he’s distantly aware that the other boy is shushing him.

“Okay, _schatje_ , okay, I got you.” He gets to Charles’ face and places a kiss on his jaw and his lips, and Charles kisses him back desperately, using the hand on Max’s hair to keep him close. His muscles are locked with how much he _wants_ and he whines again when his boyfriend pulls back. “I’m gonna fuck you now, baby.”

The Red Bull driver stretches his arm to grab one of the condoms on the bedside table, but Charles moves to grab his arm before he can and pulls it back towards him.

“Are you sure? You don’t usually like doing it like that when we’re not home.” Max asks him intently, his eyes trained on Charles’ face.

“Yeah, I don’t care, I want it.” He moves the hand still on Max’s hair to cup his face, thumb pressing on the corner of the other boy’s lips.

Max shifts his face slightly to press a kiss against Charles’ palm and mumbles a small “okay” before reaching down to position himself. Charles feels his cock bump against his hole and he clenches down on nothing, but before the other boy can enter him he pushes his chest back a little.

“Wait, I’m gonna…” He tries to move from under Max to turn around, but Max grabs his waist to hold him in place.

“No, Charles, like this.” He says firmly, looking into Charles’ eyes. “I want to see you.”

The Monégasque tries to complain, but the protest dies on his lips. He’s buzzing out of his skin with desire, but there are still thoughts about the race in his head and he wants Max to fuck him into the matress until he can barely breathe so he can forget about it, but he knows that Max is all too aware of his plans and won’t let him just get lost in his own head like that.

“Okay, but c’mon, get in me.” He says shakily and reaches down a hand to grab Max’s ass and pull his body as close as they can possibly get.

The first few seconds as Max enters him are always an experience, no matter how many times they do this. The breath hitches in Charles’ throat and he buries his face on the Dutchman’s neck to muffle his moan, feeling more than hearing the groan that Max lets out.

Max snaps his hips forward so he’s fully inside and stops to let Charles adjust. They’re both breathing heavily as Charles raises his legs to envelop Max and nods at him to continue. The Red Bull driver starts off slow, pulling almost all the way out and going back in until Charles gets impatient and pulls Max’s face off his shoulder and shoves his tongue inside his mouth, stopping to bite his lower lip until the other boy moans against him, moving his hips and changing the angle so he hits Charles’ prostate dead on in his next thrust.

Charles shoves his head back into the mattress, a loud moan falling from his lips and Max bites his neck, leaving what is probably going to be a spectacular bruise.

“There we go, baby.” The Red Bull driver mumbles against his skin, moving up so his mouth is by Charles’ ear. “You feel so good, Charles. Absolutely perfect, like you were made to have me inside you.” Charles moans again and he’s probably leaving scratches on Max’s shoulders from how tight he’s gripping him. “My angel, you’re so perfect.”

“I’m not perfect.” The Monégasque grumbles out and Max bites him again. He’s fucking into Charles slowly, each thrust hitting him just right.

“You are. You’re so fucking perfect and I love you more than anything in this world. You’re the best thing that has ever happened to me, my beautiful, wonderful boyfriend.”

Charles whines and closes his eyes against the onslaught of emotions that Max’s words bring him. They’re both free with their feelings, not bothering to hold back their affection and words of love when they’re alone or even among friends and family, but something about Max is different when Charles gets like this; he showers the Monégasque with praises and loving words until Charles feels like he’s going to drown in so much love and the only thing keeping him afloat is the feeling of Max’s body against his, holding Charles close like he’s something precious.

He feels Max raise his head and forces his eyes to open and look at the sight in front of him; his boyfriend’s face is flushed, hair a mess from how much Charles has put his fingers through it and his eyes are dark with desire, but the expression on his face is as tender as it can get and it should be impossible to love someone as much as Charles loves him.

“Are you planning on fucking me anytime today or…?” The Monégasque asks with a forced air of indifference.

“Sorry, I didn’t realize we were folding laundry.” Max replies, pulling his hips back and thrusting back in so hard that Charles’ eyes go unfocused for a few seconds. He swallows a whimper and opens his mouth to make another snarky comment, but Max repeats his movement. “You want me to fuck you, baby? That’s alright, I’ll fuck you.”

He sets up a brutal pace after that, grasping Charles’ thigh and raising his leg higher to get deeper and Charles _loses it_. Some distant part of his brain spends a couple of seconds thinking about the poor souls in the rooms near them being subjected to Charles’ screams and moans, but it is soon forgotten because of how good this feels.

Max does his best to keep telling Charles just how wonderful he is and how delicious he feels, eventually switching to Dutch and Charles can barely understand what he’s saying, but he still feels every ounce of emotion that the Red Bull driver puts into his words. His entire body is shaking with how close he is and he has a tight grip on Max’s broad shoulders and his ass, keeping their bodies close and feeling how they slide together with sweat, his cock dripping and rubbing against Max’s toned abdomen.

He feels his ass clench around Max’s dick and the other boy swears, lowering his head and kissing Charles ferociously. He’s got both elbows by Charles’ head to hold himself up and one of his hands grabs the Monégasque’s hair and _pulls_ at the same time that he thrusts into his prostate and Charles wails as his orgasm is ripped out of him, back arching under Max’s body.

His head is buzzing from the force of his orgasm and he feels how his ass is contracting around Max in aftershocks, his boyfriend’s moans getting louder over him until he gives a drawn-out groan and comes, filling Charles up and burying his face on his shoulder.

He pulls out of Charles as they’re still catching their breath and the Ferrari driver is still too lost in the sex haze to care about the liquid trickling out of his ass. For now. 

They lay like that, sweaty bodies pressed together and their hearts slowly calming down until Max shifts like he’s going to get up and Charles grasps him as tight as his still weak limbs allow at the moment, moving one of his legs to keep his boyfriend on top of him.

“I’m going to crush you.” The Red Bull driver says, turning his face slightly and resting it against Charles’. Charles won’t admit that he likes how it feels to be covered by Max like this, his larger body pressing Charles’ down into the mattress and caging him from the world.

“You’re not that big, love.” As soon as the words come out, his fucked out brain realizes his mistake.

“I think that’s the first time you’ve said that to me.” Max snorts, very inelegantly, and Charles pinches his waist in retaliation, making Max flinch on top of him and yelp. “You’ll see if I’ll clean you up when I get up and you start complaining about being a mess, you fucker.”

“Of course you will, you’re not fooling anyone but yourself here.” He says sarcastically, but his words are softened by the way his hands are moving gently on his boyfriend’s back. He brings one up to Max’s head and scratches it lightly, feeling the other boy melt on top of him and let out what is almost a rumble. “I’m really proud of you, _mon couer_. You were brilliant today.”

“I’m sorry that you didn’t have a good race.” Is what Max replies with and Charles rolls his eyes.

“I don’t care about my race, Max.” The Dutchman raises his head to give Charles a truly unimpressed glare. “Fine, I don’t care _that much_ about my race; I’m happy that you won and that you were so amazing out there and that’s all that matters to me right now.”

“Thank you, baby.” Max says softly and leans down to give him a kiss.

He pulls back, nuzzling Charles’ face and the Monégasque feels his chest clench.

“I love you so much.” He tells his boyfriend and feels the smile stretching on Max’s face.

“I love you too, _schatje._ ”

“And I really need you to get up now and get something to clean me, because I am disgusting and these sheets are ruined.” He says in a flat voice and Max gives a loud bark of laughter.

“Your wish is my command, Your Majesty.” He leaves a playful bite on Charles’ shoulder and gets up.

Meanwhile Charles places both arms behind his head and simply appreciates the view of Max’s naked body walking towards the bathroom, feeling his spent dick twitch as he watches the way the muscles in the Dutchman’s back and ass move.

It’s still early, he thinks to himself, so they could probably squeeze another round of orgasms before anyone shows up trying to drag Max to celebrate his win.


	3. Belgium

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is sad, okay? I tried to make it fluffy, but this moment will never not be sad.

Max is getting up from his seat after the last meeting of the day ends when Vicky knocks on the door and walks into the room. There’s a somber expression on her face and Max knows, before she opens her mouth, what she’s going to say.

“I’m sorry to interrupt guys, but we just received the confirmation that Anthoine passed away.”

The room is completely silent for a few seconds, until someone mumbles a “fucking hell” that prompts everyone else to start talking. Max hears more than one person ask how could something like that happen to someone so young and how can they even race tomorrow after such a tragedy, but he’s still staring at the door that Vicky came through, feeling a shiver down his spine.

The only thing on his mind is Charles.

Charles, who has already lost so much in so little time, and will now be forced to race in the track where one of his oldest friends died. Charles, who barely celebrated his pole position earlier in the day to go and be with Pierre. And _Pierre_ , who had the worst possible season this year and now, on his first race after being demoted back to Toro Rosso, has to deal with the loss of one of his best friends.

The Dutchman mumbles a goodbye to the people in the room and brushes past the ones standing by the door, grabbing his phone from his pocket to call his boyfriend.

He finds a text message already waiting for him, simply saying “Anthoine is dead. Going back to the hotel with Pierre.”

He feels his eyes burn with the urge to cry, but he manages to hold it back. He's still inside of the Red Bull hospitality with a lot of people around, and the last thing he needs is for some straggling reporter to see him crying.

He sends a text to Charles asking if they're already at the hotel, getting back a yes and Pierre's room number, where they're probably at right now. He picks up his thing from his room and makes his way to the parking lot, texting Daniel on the way to tell him the news, if he doesn't already know about it.

He's just sat down when he gets a reply; Daniel tells him that he'd heard about it from Cyril and he sent a text to Pierre and Charles, but he can't bring himself to talk to them in person at the moment, and the Red Bull driver is reminded that Daniel was already in Formula 1 the last time a driver died during a race and he was pretty close to Jules. Max doesn't think that Daniel knew Anthoine better than him, but he can only imagine what kind of memories this awful day is going to bring up for so many of the drivers.

He spends the entire drive back to the hotel trying to focus on the road ahead of him and not on what state he might find Charles in when he gets there, but fails miserably.

As soon as he arrives, he stops by his room to drop off his things and then makes his way to the floor below his, where Pierre's room is located.

Max realizes that this is the second time in two years that he has to think about what to say to Charles after he’s lost someone important in his life and he has to stop in the middle of the hallway to take a deep breath and get his emotions in check. He doesn’t know what to say to Charles or Pierre, but he needs to make sure that both of them are as okay as they can possibly be right now, and his hands are shaking with the desperate urge to hug his boyfriend and keep him close.

He walks up to the door to Pierre’s room, takes another deep breath and knocks.

The seconds drag by, but finally the door is opened by Charles. His eyes are red-rimmed, but his face is completely blank and Max’s heart plummets.

“Hey, baby.” He says softly and takes a tentative step towards the other boy. “I’m so sorry.”

“Thanks… Come in, Lando and George are sitting with Pierre.” He replies and moves to shut the door, pulling away from the Dutchman; his entire body is tense and it is clear that he doesn’t want to be touched right now, so Max shoves both hands in his pockets to keep from reaching out to grab him.

“Wait, Charles… Can I do anything to help you?” Max remembers how lost he felt talking to Charles back in 2017 after his father passed away, but this is so much worse. Back then, as much as he wanted to gather the other boy up in his arms and comfort him, they were still starting a tentative friendship. Now, on the other hand, they have been dating for almost a year and it has become an instinct for Max to reach out and touch his boyfriend at all times, but especially when he is so clearly in pain.

“I’m fine, don’t worry.” As if those words don’t raise all kinds of red flags in Max’s mind. “I’m worried about Pierre, I think I’m going to stay here with him tonight and keep him company.”

"Of course," Max nods. "And let me know if there's anything I can do for either of you, please."

The Monégasque nods at him, but Max is fairly certain that he didn't even register his words. He follows the other boy to the bedroom in silence and when they get there, he sees the other drivers sitting on both sides of Pierre, whose body is curled up against the headboard, head resting on his knees. Both drivers turn to look at him with sad expressions on their faces, George's eyes even redder than Charles' and it suddenly occurs to Max that they probably raced with Anthoine at some point as well.

He has no idea what to say, so he just stands there until Charles touches his arm gently and nudges him towards the bed, sitting down at the foot of it, and Max follows suit.

They all stay like that, sitting in silence, until Pierre raises his head and starts talking about Anthoine. His face is swollen from how much he's cried already and his voice breaks whenever he says his friend's name, but he keeps talking about him and Lando and George eventually join in. Max notices that Charles barely says anything, only humming in agreement sometimes or forcing a smile onto his face.

He can't stand not touching the other boy, but he also doesn't want him to feel like Max is forcing him to do something, so he settles for rearranging his position on the bed until his knee is pressed against Charles, who doesn't even seem to notice it, and the Dutchman finds himself growing increasingly worried.

After a while, Lando and George decide to leave. They both hug Pierre for a long time and try to do the same to Charles, who visibly curls in on himself when they get close, so both drivers settle for bumping him gently on the shoulder. Max can see the worried looks that they give the Monégasque before turning to look at him, but he can only shake his head at them.

When the door closes behind them, Pierre says that he's going to take a shower and they can leave if they want to, but Charles is quick to say that he's not going anywhere. There's a flash of relief on the Frenchman's face, before it settles back into the dejected expression he's had all this time and he moves to grab his clothes.

Pierre steps into the bathroom, the click of the door loud in the silence of the hotel room and Max sees how Charles’ entire body shudders as he breathes in deeply where he’s still sitting at the foot of the bed and he can’t keep it in anymore.

“Charles,” The Monégasque raises his head to look at him and Max can see how hard it is becoming for him to keep his mask in place. “Please talk to me.”

“I’m okay, Max… I don’t need to talk about it.” 

“You’re seconds away from a breakdown, _schatje_. I know you want to be strong for Pierre right now, but you can’t ignore your own feelings like this.” Max is pleading by now, but he is desperate to get through to the other boy.

“Pierre was much closer to Anthoine than I was, he needs me right now and I have to be here for him.” Charles’ voice trembles.

“Baby…” Jesus Christ, Max's heart is broken into pieces inside of his chest. “That’s not fair, he was your friend too.”

“I’m used to losing people, Max. I’ll work through it once Pierre is better.” And that was probably the worst sentence that the Red Bull driver has ever heard in his entire life. He finds himself speechless after hearing Charles’ words, until his brain starts up again and he turns his body to face him.

“I’m going to touch you now, Charles.” He says as confidently as he can manage, which isn’t much, and raises both of his hands to cup Charles’ face softly. “Don’t ever say that again. I can only imagine how much pain you’re in right now and I am so fucking sorry that you are going through this. If I could reach into your heart and take that pain from you and carry it, I would in a heartbeat, but I can’t… All I can do is help you shoulder as much of it as possible and be here for you, but you have to _let me_ , _liefje_."

"I can't." He says brokenly and Max watches as his eyes fill with tears. "I can't talk about it or even think about it, because I feel like if I do that, I'll break and I don't know how I'll put myself together again afterwards."

"I'll help you." Max says earnestly. "I'm here for you and I always will be, and if you need to fall apart right now, I'll pick up every single piece of you and put you back together. I'll do anything you need, baby, but I can't stand to see you like this."

Charles' face crumbles and a sob falls from his lips, his body curving forwards with the force of it and he leans in Max's direction, who is quick to move and envelop him in his arms. Their position is far from comfortable, but Max hugs the other boy as tight as he can against his body, moving one of his hands to the back of his boyfriend's head and threading his fingers in his hair.

He can feel his shirt getting wet where Charles has his face pressed against it, his entire body shaking from how hard he's crying and Max can't keep his own tears from falling. He never knew Anthoine well, but he cries for the life that was lost today; cries for Pierre, who has already gone through so much this year and will now carry the weight of this day for the rest of his life; most of all, he cries for Charles. His beautiful, wonderful Charles who deserves nothing but happiness every single day of his life, but who's not even 22 years old and already so filled with grief.

He knows that his boyfriend is strong, stronger than a lot of people that Max has met in his life, but everyone has a breaking point; so he sits on Pierre's bed, clutching the love of his life to his chest trying to keep him together as he falls apart, and prays to a god that he doesn't believe in that this isn't Charles'.

\----

Max takes a picture with what feels like the 50th fan since he got out of the Red Bull hospitality and continues making his way through the paddock in search of Charles.

Charles, who after one of the worst days of his life, still managed to win a Grand Prix; his _first_ in Formula 1 and Max is brimming with joy and pride for his boyfriend, but is also worried out of his mind. 

He looked for Charles at the Ferrari garage, but Silvia told him that he had asked for a few moments alone, so now Max is looking for him in the places where they usually run off to, in order to be alone whenever they’re in the paddock and wanting some privacy. 

He can’t even imagine what is going through the Monégasque’s head right now, and the fact that his maiden win in Formula 1 will forever be tainted by another tragedy makes Max’s heart clench in his chest.

Not even 24 hours ago he was consoling Charles after he finally allowed himself to feel all the emotions from Anthoine’s death, breaking down in Max’s arms and crying for what felt like an eternity and only stopping when Pierre got back in the bedroom. He tried to hide the state he was in from his friend by staying glued to Max, but the Frenchman only sat down next to them and clutched Charles’ hand between his as Max raised one of his to grasp Pierre’s shoulder.

They spent a lot of time in silence after that, with Max still not really sure of what to say to the other drivers in such a difficult moment. He ordered room service to at least make sure that both of them would eat something, stuck around until they finished it and then bid them both goodnight.

Leaving Charles at that moment was one of the hardest things that Max had ever done, but he understood that both boys needed to be left alone to grieve for their friend and, as much as he wished it otherwise, the Dutchman had to give them space to do it. So he gave Pierre a tight hug, squeezed Charles to his chest again, kissed him and left.

He had a fitful sleep, woke up feeling like he didn’t get any rest and went through the motions of a race day almost on autopilot; he gave some interviews, talked to the mechanics and sneaked off a little before they had to get the cars on the grid to try and see Charles.

He found him talking to Anthoine’s mother, Pierre at his side, so he acted as professional as possible by giving her his condolences and wishing both drivers good luck; if he grasped Charles’ shoulder a little too desperately, spent too long looking at his sorrowful face and if Charles’ grip on his arm was equally tight, Max couldn’t be bothered to care at that moment.

They had a minute of silence for Anthoine a little after that and it was palpable how terrible everybody on the paddock was feeling. Where there’s usually laughter and people yelling at each other, it seemed like everyone was subdued, walking around and being dragged by the weight of what happened.

Max tried to focus on the oncoming race and push every other thought out of his mind, and it worked… For about 5 minutes, until the race start left him being squeezed by an Alfa Romeo on turn 1 and taken out by another before he could even finish the first lap. He couldn’t muster up his usual anger at the incident, so he regretfully accepted it and left to watch the rest of the race in his driver’s room.

And what a race it was. When Charles finally crossed the finish line as the race winner he had to hold back a scream of joy for his boyfriend, immediately followed by a feeling of sadness as Charles’ radio came on, that lingered as he watched the coverage of the end of the race, the interviews and the podium ceremony, where the Ferrari driver dedicated his trophy to his late friend, exactly like he did two years before for his father.

So now here Max is, ducking behind hospitalities and motorhomes in search of his boyfriend. He doesn’t know what he’ll find, if Charles will have his blank mask from yesterday back in place or if he’ll allow himself to show his feelings.

He finally finds him at the far end of the paddock, hiding behind the race control building; he’s sitting on the floor, upper body resting against the wall and eyes closed. He doesn’t seem to be crying and Max can’t hold back a sigh, which apparently was loud enough to break Charles out of his concentration, making him look in Max’s direction with a guarded expression on his face.

“Hey,” The Monégasque says softly once he realizes that Max is the one who found him, giving him a small smile that slips from his face after barely a second. “I’m sorry about your race… Are you okay?”

How is this boy _real_?

“I’m good, shit happens sometimes. Can I join you?” He asks and points to the floor next to the other boy, who nods a couple of times. Max sits down next to him, pressing the side of his entire body against Charles’ and turning his face in his direction. “How are _you_ doing, race winner?”

“I’m not sure.” The Ferrari driver answers honestly and places his head on Max’s shoulder, who is thankful that his boyfriend seems willing to accept the comfort that he’s offering. “I barely got any sleep last night, my entire body feels like lead and I just feel… Numb, you know? I know I should be feeling _something_ , adrenaline from the race, sadness or anger, but I just feel like some part of my brain is switched off right now and I’m watching things happen like they’re happening to someone else.”

The Red Bull driver doesn’t know what to say to that, so he lowers his face to place a kiss to Charles’ hair and stays like that, touching his head to the other boy’s. He feels one of Charles’ arms wrapping around his waist and he places one hand over his and the other on his leg.

“This doesn’t feel real.” Charles mumbles and his voice trembles. “How can this be real, Max? I felt like my heart couldn’t possibly break anymore after Jules and my dad, and now this? How many more people am I going to lose before I break beyond repair?”

“You’re not going to break, Charles.” Max says through the lump in his throat. “You’ve had the most terrible things happen to you, but you are still here, you’re still fighting and you’re not going to break, because I won’t let you.”

“What if I lose you next?” He says in a broken voice and his hand grips Max’s shirt so tight that it feels like he’s going to rip it. “What if you’re the next one who crashes during a race or gets an illness that destroys everything you once were? And don’t tell me that it won’t happen, because it could. And then what am I going to do? How am I going to exist in a world where I no longer have you?”

“Don’t say that.” The Dutchman says sternly and raises a hand to cup the back of Charles’ head, gripping his hair between his fingers. “You’re not going to lose me. And you know how I know that? Because I won’t let anything take me away from you. You know exactly how stubborn I can be, and I’ll fight through anything that the Universe throws at me to stay at your side for the rest of our lives.”

“You can’t just decide that, Max. You said it yourself, shit happens.” Charles moves his head and Max pulls back so they can look at each other. Charles’ eyes are filled with tears, but he’s looking at Max like he’s delusional.

“You’re underestimating how stubborn I can be, baby. I’m telling you, nothing in this world can take me away from you.” He says confidently. “We’re going to get old and gray and annoy each other until we both die in our sleep. And then I’ll find you in whatever comes after this life and you’ll still be stuck with me.”

Charles rolls his eyes at him, but there’s a tentative smile blooming on his face and Max is filled with relief. He knows that he _probably_ can’t actually do it, but he’ll be damned if he won’t put up the fight of his life against anything that gets thrown at him to try to take him away from Charles.


	4. Italy

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This has absolutely no plot other than Charles trying to deal with so many emotions in so little time and Max being the best boyfriend in the history of boyfriends.

The roar of the Tifosi is almost loud enough to drown out the noise inside Charles' head.

He steps onto the podium, a sea of red beneath his feet and the blue sky above him and his whole body is shaking; he doesn't know how to put into words what he's feeling. The Monégasque anthem starts to play and he can't stand still, moving his body side to side to try and get rid of some of the adrenaline in him.

He looks down as the crowd starts screaming the Italian national anthem and sees his brothers next to the Ferrari engineers. He looks for his mother but he can't find her in the sea of people looking up at him right now and for just a split second, like the blink of an eye, he looks for his father's face as well.

It's something that he'd thought he'd grown out of by now, and it's gone as fast as it came, but the thought that he'll never see his father celebrating a win in his career lingers like he's just been punched. The only thing that keeps him smiling like nothing happened is the instinct that he's developed since joining F1, to always keep a smile on his face no matter how much he's screaming on the inside.

He feels the way his muscles tighten, body wanting to curl up into itself, to hide from the world and the ugly truth of his life and the string of deaths he carries with him; Jules, his father, and now Anthoine. So many people lost in so little time, taking a piece of his heart with each one of them and leaving him broken, frayed at the edges and cutting himself on them with every mistake he makes, every moment that he fucks up and fails to make them proud.

 _Would_ they be proud of him today? As he stands at the highest step, with the world at his feet and people screaming for him like he's a god, he's never felt so big and so small at the same time. He wants to tell these people that he doesn't deserve this, that he's standing at the place where a dead man should have been, where Anthoine could've been in the future if he hadn't been taken from them.

He looks down again, beyond the Ferrari engineers and the photographers and he sees Max, standing between Daniel and Pierre and the three of them are looking up at him with smiles on their faces.

His heart clenches with affection in his chest when he sees them and the smile on his face becomes a little more genuine. He knows that they are happy for him, that they're proud of what he did and who he is. He knows that Pierre will tell him that he made Anthoine proud today, just like he said the week before; he knows that Daniel will hug him and tell him that he's awesome; most of all, he knows that Max will hold him in his arms and tell him over and over again how proud he is and how much he loves him.

He'll probably never believe that he's fully deserving of this, no matter how many times Max or his mother say it, and he'll never really know if he made the people he's lost proud, but all he can do is keep trying his best and hope that it'll be enough.

He receives the trophy, holding it high above his head as the crowd screams for him and he looks back at one of the most important people in his life; Max is clapping, a huge smile on his face, and Charles wants to touch him, to hold him close and let the Dutchman's love fill him and soften those frayed edges of his until he starts resembling a normal person again, not dragged down by grief and loss.

He looks at Max for as long as he can, only turning away when it's time for the champagne.

\----

Charles' phone is blowing up, but he ignores everything to send a simple text to Max telling him that he's in his motorhome. He doesn't elaborate, but that shouldn't be necessary; over the past few months they have learned to take every opportunity to be together when they're in the paddock, sometimes even creating some and coming dangerously close to exposing themselves to people.

Charles has already spent some time with his family after the podium, promising to go out with them later for dinner and to drag Max and Pierre with him; he's spoken to his best friend, who said exactly what he thought he would about his race and Anthoine and he's given plenty of interviews already. He's bought himself at least one hour of peace and plans to spend it with his boyfriend.

When someone finally knocks on his door, he rushes over to open it and drag Max inside, closing the door right behind him and pushing him back into it.

"Someone's eager…" Max laughs, but lets Charles move him as he wants and stands still as the slightly smaller boy crowds him against the door.

"Hi." Charles says, trying to contain his smile. He has one hand wrapped around Max's bicep and the other cupping his jaw.

"Hey, race winner." Max's voice is soft, a smile on his beautiful face and he raises both arms to encircle Charles' waist. "You were fucking incredible today, baby."

"I still can't believe I won." He gives a little disbelieving laugh and shakes his head.

"Well, you've got a pretty awesome trophy as proof. And I don't think you could imagine a podium like that." 

"That fucking podium… Baby, it was insane!" Charles exclaims and feels Max's throat vibrate with his laugh. "There were so many people on the track, it was unbelievable. I can't believe this happened."

"It happened, _schatje._ You did it." And there it is, Max saying the words that Charles can't bring himself to. "You won in Monza, driving a Ferrari and you were fucking amazing at it. I'm so proud of you, Charles."

The Monégasque closes the distance between them to hug his boyfriend, resting his forehead against Max's shoulder and feeling the other boy squeeze his waist. They stand there in silence, holding each other for a few minutes and Charles feels his heart settle for the first time since the race.

"I love you," Max whispers where he has his face pressed against Charles' hair. "And I'm so fucking proud, baby. You made them all proud today, I hope you know that."

Charles feels like he’s going to choke on all the words that he wants to say: he doesn’t deserve this win; were the last two races a stroke of luck and he’ll never know what is like to win again?; did he really make them proud?; they should _be here with him_. He breathes in shakily, clutching Max’s shirt with his hands and feels the other boy squeeze him even tighter.

“You don’t have to say anything, okay? And I know you can’t believe me right now, but I’m going to keep telling you this until you do. And then I’ll keep saying it, because I’ll never stop being proud of you, Charles, and neither will they.”

“I love you,” Is all that Charles can say, voice muffled by Max’s shoulder and the tears that he’s trying to hold back. “and I don’t deserve you.”

“Shut up.” The Dutchman is quick to reply. “I’m the one who doesn’t deserve you, but you’re stuck with me now, because I’m never going to let you go.”

“Guess we’re stuck with each other then, because I would never allow you to.” The Monégasque says with a wet laugh and Max shrugs, displacing his head.

“Eh, there are worse things.” He says as Charles moves back a little to look at him. “At least you’re pretty to look at.” He gives a cheeky smile and moves one of his hands down to grab Charles’ ass. “And you’re kind of hot.”

“Excuse you, _kind of_?” The Ferrari driver says with fake indignation. “How dare you, you just lost your touching privileges.”

He pushes Max’s chest half-heartedly, not making much of an effort to move away, and his boyfriend laughs at him, placing both hands at Charles’ hips.

“Alright, you’re very hot.”

“Don’t say that to…” He moves his hands around to try and convey what he means, blushing slightly when his English fails him, as it usually does. “I don’t know the word, but you know what I mean.”

“To appease you?” Max offers helpfully.

“Yes, that.” He nods. “I _am_ very hot and you should appreciate it more.”

“ _Schatje_ , if I appreciate you and your body more than I already do we will never step outside again.” The Red Bull driver replies, hands going beneath Charles’ shirt to touch skin.

“That doesn’t sound so bad to me.” The Monégasque says coyly, feeling goosebumps rise from the feel of Max’s calloused fingers moving over his waist and lower back. Charles raises his own hands to caress Max’s arms, moving them up to his shoulders and neck. “We leave for our trip on Tuesday, so we have at least a week and a half alone to get started on that.”

“I was thinking that we could get started right now.” Max says in a low voice.

His boyfriend closes the distance between them and kisses him, guiding Charles’ body backwards until he feels the couch hit the back of his legs. The Monégasque sits down, pulling Max with him and keeping their lips pressed together. 

“Wait.” Max mumbles against his mouth and pulls away to rearrange his body, kneeling with Charles between his legs and sitting down on his lap and immediately going back to the kiss, hands going up to grasp Charles’ hair.

Charles takes no time to touch him again, pulling the Red Bull driver’s shirt up and freeing his skin for Charles’ hungry hands. Max’s tongue touches his at the same moment that the Ferrari driver reaches up to play with one of his nipples and Max muffles a loud moan against his mouth.

“Woah.”

Someone says and both boys spring apart in surprise, Charles’ arm moving on instinct to hold Max and keep him from falling off his lap. The Monégasque looks behind Max and sees Sebastian closing the door, eyes averted but with an amused expression on his face and feels his entire face going red.

“I knocked, but no one answered, so I came in when I realized that the door was _unlocked_.” Sebastian says pointedly and Charles turns to look at Max, whose glare is made less effective by the blush adorning his cheeks.

“You didn’t lock the door?” They both ask at the same time and Max splutters. “Why was I supposed to lock it, you’re the one who dragged me inside!”

“I was distracted! You should have locked it.”

“Well, so was I!”

“Boys! As fun as this is, you should both be more careful.” Sebastian scolds both of them, but Charles can see that he’s fighting back a smile. “I know that you two are the worst kept secret of the paddock, but you probably shouldn’t risk someone walking in on something that they shouldn’t.”

“Sorry to break it to you, Seb, but quite a few people have already seen something that they shouldn’t.” Max laughs and turns his body to look at the older driver, seeming unbothered by the fact that his shirt is still up to his armpits. Charles rolls his eyes and fixes it, not pleased with the eyeful that his boyfriend is offering to the other driver; it’s not like Seb is going to be tempted by the sight, but Max isn’t the only one in their relationship with a penchant for possessiveness.

“Somehow I don’t doubt it.” The older driver chuckles. “Anyway, I didn’t mean to disturb your _celebration_ , but I wanted to congratulate the race winner for today.”

“Of course, I’ll give you two some privacy.” The Dutchman moves to get up from Charles’ lap, but the younger boy holds him still, getting a weird look in return. 

“I’m sure that Seb wouldn’t mind if you stayed, right?” Charles’ gaze is flitting between Max, Sebastian and the wall, and he really hopes that his voice doesn’t come out as rattled as he feels just thinking about Max leaving him right now. It’s probably unhealthy how much he has relied on Max’s presence to stay calm over the past week, and he’s sure that he’ll feel embarrassed about it at some point in the near future, but for now, he’s willing to look a little ridiculous in front of people if it means keeping his boyfriend around for longer.

“Of course not, it’s alright.” Sebastian says reassuringly and Charles blushes again.

“Okay,” Max says, still looking at Charles, but the Ferrari driver doesn’t look him in the face. “I can stay.” He moves to sit next to the Monégasque, body turned slightly sideways so his knee touches Charles’ leg.

Sebastian walks towards them and sits down, a kind smile on his face as the three of them start discussing the race. After a while, as Seb looks in his phone for some funny thing that his wife sent him, Charles places a hand on Max’s knee and turns his head to face him.

Max is already looking at him, his eyes soft as he reaches out to intertwine their fingers and squeeze Charles’ hand. He knows that they’ll talk about his behavior over the last week at some point and that Max has been worried about him, but for now they sit there, hands laced together and enjoying a nice moment with Sebastian as Charles finally manages to push back the thoughts that have been haunting him since the race.


	5. Singapore

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is it, folks. The final chapter.
> 
> This is just Max being a sap, but maybe-sort of damaged and Charles realizing that he's been a bit of a shit boyfriend. They try to work things out, but everything happens in the span of 30 minutes, so there's not much that can come out of it other than promising to try and be better.
> 
> I'm not 100% happy with this, but I don't think it's going to get much better if I keep working on it, so have at it.  
> Thank you to everyone who read this and to those of you who took a couple of minutes to comment on the chapters, it really means a lot.
> 
> Kamila, this entire thing is your fault and I hate you, but I also love you a lot.

Max knows he’s being obvious, but he can’t be bothered to care about that now.

He and Charles have been pretty much living together for a couple of months now, and they haven’t spent more than two nights apart from each other, outside of race weekends, since the summer break. Even in Spa, after everything happened, Charles sought him out the night after the race and they stayed together until he left for the funeral in France.

And now they just got back from a week together in the French Alps celebrating their first anniversary and it’s _weird_ not being able to freely touch his boyfriend whenever they cross paths in the paddock. 

They flew to Singapore together and, despite having rooms booked by their teams in the same hotel, Charles arranged for them to stay in one of the VIP suites. When Max joked about the other boy missing him at night, Charles shyly replied that he didn’t want to be apart from Max longer than necessary after living in each other’s pockets for so long and, really, how could Max argue with that? There’s no denying that he sleeps better with Charles by his side and he’s grown used to always having a part of his boyfriend’s body touching him.

It’s a common joke among their friends that Charles, with his desperate need for constant attention, and Max, always willing to shower his boyfriend with love, turned out to be a perfect match. And the Red Bull driver has never been able to argue with that; he’s always gravitated towards Charles, be it as rivals when they were teenagers karting together or as tentative friends after the Monégasque started in F2 and started being around more often, both of them too scared to confess their real feelings until that fateful night in Austria a year ago.

It took awhile for Max to get used to dating someone so free with his touches and words; after the slightly bumpy start to their relationship, Max quickly realized how clingy Charles could get and how the smallest of praises affected him. It was hard, at first, unlearning years of conditioning from his father to hide his feelings and keep his defenses up at all times, and allowing himself to be vulnerable with someone, so he focused on being the best boyfriend that he could be. He’s still not the best at letting Charles in but, as difficult as the past few months have been for his boyfriend, it allowed Max to focus all of his attention on the other boy and give him all the love and care that he deserves.

He knows that the Monégasque feels bad for how much he’s relied on Max’s presence and affection since Spa and he’s seen, in more than one occasion, the other boy physically hold himself back from touching Max and pulling him close, specially in front of other people. He’s tried talking to Charles about it a couple of times, but he always gets this deer in the headlights look and Max gives up, not wanting to make him upset.

Daniel is right, he is _whipped_.

They’re now getting ready for the pre-race line-up, kids running around and eagerly waiting for the opportunity to talk to the drivers, and Max hasn’t taken his eyes off of Charles for longer than five seconds. Alex has already laughed himself silly, walking off to talk to George and Lando and Max knows that they’re laughing at him, but he doesn’t care. Charles has a towel around his neck, fireproofs done up to the neck and his face is slightly sweaty from the heat, but he looks absolutely beautiful. Their eyes met a few minutes ago and the Ferrari driver smiled brightly, dimples appearing on his face for a few seconds, until Sebastian nudged him pointedly and the Monégasque averted his eyes, his usual mask of polite indifference back in place.

After years of knowing Charles, Max is aware that the other boy is much better than him at hiding his emotions in front of people and has grown used to being the one left with the lovesick look on his face as Charles goes back to looking unbothered. Except, of course, when he’s pissed at something or someone; Charles’ bitch face is unmatchable.

They take their places for the anthem and the pictures with the kids, but Max can’t stop looking at Charles, who is staring resolutely ahead. He sees his boyfriend look up at the flag above them and knows that he’s been caught staring, so he improvises.

“Charles,” He says in a low voice, but the other boy doesn’t hear him. Well, then. “Hey, Charles!” He reaches out to touch his arm and get his attention. “That looks a lot like the Monaco flag, doesn’t it?”

Max can _feel_ the exasperated sigh that Lewis, stuck between them, lets out and he knows he’s going to be mocked for this later, but Charles looks up attentively to inspect the flag. 

“No, no, this one has the moon and stars, see?” He points at the flag as he speaks, like it’s the most important piece of information in the world.

“Oh, okay.” Max nods a couple of times and smiles softly at him, getting a smile in return before his boyfriend looks forward again.

He straightens up and glances at Lewis, who has the most unimpressed look on his face that Max has ever seen.

“What?” He asks defensively.

“Could you try to be more obvious?” The older driver asks, raising an eyebrow, and Max just shrugs.

“I don’t know what you’re talking about, I was just asking a fellow driver a question.”

“How does Seb put up with you two?” The British driver mumbles, shaking his head and Max elbows him in the ribs.

\----

Max knows that Charles is upset.

He heard enough about the race to know that Ferrari’s strategy today gave Seb his win, essentially stealing it from Charles and his boyfriend’s previously mentioned bitch face during the podium was enough to let Max know that he isn’t happy. They only had a couple of minutes together in private before the post-race press conference, but Charles said he didn’t want to talk about his race, still obviously angry about the turn of events, and wanted to focus on Max, congratulating him for holding Lewis back and getting on the podium.

They caught glimpses of each other a few more times, but didn’t get another moment alone before Max went back to the hotel to get ready for a party to celebrate the race. Charles was still in the paddock when he left and, by the time the Dutchman was ready, his boyfriend still hadn’t showed up in the room, although he texted saying that he was on his way to the hotel and would see Max at the party.

So the Red Bull driver tries to distract himself. He goes to the party, accepts people’s congratulations for his brilliant racing and has fun with the other drivers.

He sees Charles arrive at some point, but his boyfriend makes a beeline for Sebastian and Max decides to wait to talk to him. He can only guess how conflicted Charles is feeling with his undying celebrity crush on Seb and what happened at the race, but he’s not very worried; Charles will find him when he wants to.

He’s talking with Daniel, Lando, Pierre and Carlos by the end of the most secluded bar in the room so they can talk without many people butting in. They’re all laughing at one of Daniel’s jokes when Max feels someone appearing between him and the Aussie, displacing the arm that was thrown over his shoulder. He looks to the side and is unsurprised to find that the person is Charles, who is quite clearly in one of his ‘I want attention’ moods.

His boyfriend burrows his way under Max’s arm and wraps an arm around his waist tightly, seemingly not caring about how many people are around them and Max is torn between amusement and confusion.

“Oh, Charlie is getting jealous again…” Daniel sing-songs and bursts into laughter, the others joining him.

“Yeah, right.” Max rolls his eyes and looks at his boyfriend to make a joke about how ridiculous their friends are, but the other boy is glaring at Daniel, a flush high on his cheeks that even the low lighting of the bar can’t hide and Max gives a disbelieving laugh. “He’s not jealous, he’s just being Charles.”

“Which basically means that he’s jealous of you paying or getting attention from anyone other than him.” Pierre replies and Charles gives him the finger.

“Don’t be ridiculous, Charles has never been jealous of me.” Max says and all of them turn to look at him like he’s crazy, Charles going tense underneath his arm.

“We’re talking about this Charles, right?” Lando says and points at the Ferrari driver. “Because I don’t think he has ever _not_ been jealous of you.”

“How about we give you two some space?” Carlos says and leaves his glass on the bar, moving to push Lando and Pierre gently. “Just remember that you’re still in public, please.”

The four of them move away and Max is still _so confused_. He steps back and turns to face Charles, who is staring resolutely at the ground.

"What's wrong? You’re never shy about wanting attention, but you’re not usually so obvious when we’re in public like this.”

“Sorry I’m not as good as you at playing it cool in front of people when I’m jealous.” The Monégasque says, looking up with a frown on his face.

“What the fuck are you talking about, Charles?”

“Were you being all friendly and flirty with everyone on purpose?”

“I don’t even know what is happening right now!” The Red Bull driver exclaims and looks around to see if anyone saw his outburst. 

“We shouldn’t talk about this here.” Max realizes with a jolt that Charles is actually _upset_. “I’m gonna go back to the room, I’ll see you later. Enjoy your celebration.”

“The fuck you are.” Max reaches out to hold the other boy before he can leave. “Charles, talk to me. I know you’re upset about the race, and I’m sorry, but I just want to understand.”

“This isn’t about the race, it’s about you playing dumb. I know I can be a little too much, okay? I’m sorry I’m so desperate for your attention all the time, but you don’t need to pretend like you don’t notice it for my sake.”

“What,” There are so many answers to that, but Max settles on “You’ve never been jealous of me before.” _And why would you?_ he doesn’t say.

“Why do you keep saying that?” Charles’s voice raises and there’s an anguished look on his face. 

“Because it's the truth!” Max replies in an exasperated voice.

He watches as a bunch of emotions flick through Charles’ face, from frustration, to anger, to realization, until he just looks sad. Max looks around again and sees that a couple of people are watching them, just like their friends who are further away.

“Let’s go somewhere else.” He says lowly and reaches out to place a hand on Charles’ shoulder. His boyfriend is looking at the floor again, hiding his face from Max, but lets himself be guided away from the bar and out of the room until they reach a more secluded hallway.

Charles has both arms wrapped around his own waist now and his shoulders are drawn up, body curled on itself and Max’s hands itch to comfort him, even though he doesn’t even know what made him this upset.

“Why don’t you believe that I get jealous of you?” The Ferrari driver asks softly, still not looking up at Max.

“What reason would you have for that, Charles?” He asks honestly.

“Well, you seem to do it pretty often when it comes to me. What reason do _you_ have?”

“You’re you.” Max thinks that’s a pretty good reason, but the glare that Charles directs at him tells him otherwise.

“What’s that supposed to mean? I’m me, so I’m what, easy? I’ll run off with the first person to give me some attention if you don’t stake your claim on me?” His boyfriend’s voice is filled with hurt and Max feels his eyes widen on his face.

“Of course not, baby, I didn’t mean it like that!” He reaches both hands out to the other boy, who steps away. “I meant that you’re you! You’re wonderful, and brilliant and funny and people would do anything to have you. And you could have anyone that you could possibly want.”

“And you couldn’t?” The Ferrari driver asks mockingly.

“C’mon, Charles. I have nice looks and a shit-ton of money, but that’s pretty much it. God only knows how you’re still with me after all this time.”

And there it is. The thing that Max has been thinking since they started dating, but never allowed himself to say. 

He often feels like he knows Charles better than he knows himself by now, knowing how to deal with him when he's angry, disappointed with his performance in a race, being moody because he wants attention and feels like Max is ignoring him and, worst of all, when he's grieving a loved one. But this? Charles being jealous of him is something that he just can't wrap his head around. He has no doubts that Charles loves him just as much as he loves the Ferrari driver, but how could someone like him, beautiful, wonderful and loved by everybody Charles, be jealous of Max?

He knows he's got a nice body and more than enough people wanting to sleep with him, but other than his looks and money, he hasn't got much going for him. His personality is strong at the best of times and untolerable at the worst, and many people in his life decided that he's simply not worth the effort of trying to maintain any kind of relationship. He learned the hard way that pushing people away was easier to deal with than the disappointment of them leaving.

And then Charles showed up in his life again. 

For the first two years, when he was still trying not to break under the weight of his father’s expectations of him, he struggled with his feelings for the other boy and the constant worry that Charles would eventually get tired of him and leave. He held himself back as much as possible, treasuring every moment he had with the Monégasque but always waiting for the other shoe to drop.

And then they were in Formula 1 together and, before he realized it, he was completely at Charles’ mercy. It became impossible to hide his feelings when the other boy was constantly around, shining like the actual sun on Max’s life and, once they both talked things out, Max felt like he had been unconsciously waiting for Charles to be by his side since they met as kids.

When it finally happened, he had to learn to become the kind of person that Charles needs. So he settled into the role of the doting boyfriend, showering the other boy with love and affection at all times and doing everything in his power to always make him happy. And it fit him like a glove; he was never free with touches and words before Charles, always feeling like he had to be stoic and emotionless in order to be what people wanted him to be, but nothing made him happier than loving the Monégasque and being loved by him.

But he’s not stupid; he knows that Charles, no matter how much he loves him, could do so much better than Max. And maybe some small part of him thinks that the only way to keep Charles is to give him his everything, whether he asks for it or not.

“How can you say that?” The Ferrari driver’s dejected voice brings him out of his daze. “How can you still not know that you are the greatest thing that has ever happened to me?”

Max opens his mouth to answer, but nothing comes out. He watches Charles’ face fall even more, followed by what looks like realization and a look of absolute despair takes over the younger boy’s face.

“It’s my fault,” He mumbles, muttering a few words in what sounds like French, but are too low for Max to understand. “You’ve given me absolutely everything since we started dating and all I’ve done is ask for more; I want more of your company, more of your attention and love and you just give it to me, but what have I done for you?” Charles’ voice is frantic. “You’ve spent weeks with me because I’ve been even more of a mess lately, and you never complained about it, and I know that it’s too much, that _I’ve_ been too much, but I hadn’t realized that this isn’t a recent thing, I’ve always been like this.”

Max’s heart feels like it is going to burst out of his chest from how fast it is beating. He noticed that Charles had been strange lately and knew that it had to do with his behavior in the past few weeks, but the last thing that Max ever wanted was for the other boy to feel bad for needing him. And now that’s exactly what is happening and is Max’s own fault.

“Charles,” The Dutchman’s voice is choked up and he steps forward, but his boyfriend just shakes his head.

“Have you always felt like this?” He asks, voice trembling with emotion. “And please don’t lie.”

“Yes,” Max answers tentatively and watches as Charles’ eyes fill with tears. “But this is not your fault, _schatje,_ I swear. You have made me the happiest man in this world since we met again and I would do anything to keep you safe and happy. Having you need me is not a burden and it never will be, because I love you more than anything. And I know you love me too, I would never doubt that.”

“The fact that you know I love you, but don’t know how I’m ‘still with you after all this time’ shows just how much of a terrible boyfriend I’ve been. And I’m so fucking sorry.” Charles’ voice breaks and Max feels his heart crack. “I’ve grown so used to always having you with me, giving me strength when I’m down and doing so much to make me happy that I forget that you’re not as tough and strong as you pretend to be and that’s not okay. I’ve relied so much on you since we started dating and it's not fair, because I never want you to feel like you can't be honest about your feelings with me or that you can’t rely on me as well, but that’s exactly what I did.”

“This is my fault too.” Max says and continues before Charles can reply. “I could have said something to you, but I was scared of this exact moment. I never wanted you to blame yourself for how I feel, and look how that turned out.”

“So you’ve been neglecting your own feelings to put me first, and you didn’t want to say anything about it because it would upset _me_?” Charles says in a disbelieving voice and Max winces, knowing how bad it sounds.

They stand there in silence, Max looking at Charles and Charles looking at the floor, air heavy with all that’s been said.

“I don’t know how we can move on from this.” Charles says softly and Max feels a surge of panic so strong that his entire body flinches. 

“No, Charles, please.” He begs and strides forward to grasp the other boy’s hands. “Please, don’t. I’m sorry I never said anything to you about how I was feeling, but I’ll work on it, I promise. We’ll go home and talk about everything, I’ll try to be better at communicating with you, but we can work on it, I know we can.”

Charles is staring at Max in shock, his slightly red-rimmed eyes wide on his face, and Max feels his hands actually shake where they’re still gripping Charles’.

“What…” The Ferrari driver begins, before he seems to realize what his words sounded like. “Oh, _mon amour_ , I didn’t mean it like that. I don’t want us to break up, please.” He twists his hands to squeeze Max’s reassuringly. “I will never want that, don’t even think about it. I just meant that I can’t see how we can resolve something that’s been a problem since we started dating, but I’m sure that we can figure out a way together. Always together.”

“Don’t say it like that, baby. It’s a… Hurdle, let’s say, but it’s not a problem. I’ve never been unhappy with you, I know that you never meant to make me feel like my feelings are less important than yours.” Max says back, heart still racing from Charles’ previous words, and he takes advantage of the fact that they’re finally touching again to raise a hand to cup his boyfriend’s face.

“Doesn’t change the fact that it is exactly what I did, _mon coeur_.” Charles says softly, pressing his face against Max’s hand and reaching up to touch his jaw lightly. “I will never be able to express how much I love you and I will never forgive myself for doing this to you, but I promise that I’ll be better at giving you what you need as well and actually saying the things I feel, instead of just thinking you’ll understand what I want to say when I touch you.” He brushes a thumb against Max’s face to illustrate what he means. “I’ll give you more space and try to not demand so much of your attention… I’ll do my best to hold back, but I might forget myself sometimes, so you’ll need to tell me when I’m being too much, okay?”

“I will never think that you’re being too much, Charles. And I don’t want you to change who you are, that’s not going to make me feel better.” Max says earnestly. “I love it when you get clingy and jealous, as I’m starting to realize that’s what you were quite a few times when I just thought you wanted attention. And I don’t mind that. I love you and showering you with affection makes me so fucking happy, I never want that to change. I’ll just work on getting better with telling you when I want the same, yeah? I know touching is your thing and that’s how you show you care, but, I don’t know, maybe hearing the actual words more often would be nice?”

Charles nods his head a couple of times and mumbles an ‘of course’, a sad smile on his face that he tries to cover up without much success. Max worries about how Charles is going to act once things settle between them, afraid that his boyfriend will start hiding how he’s feeling to try and spare Max. He catches himself before he can fall down the rabbit hole of worrying only about Charles and takes a deep breath, pulling the other boy to his body and holding him tight.

It won’t be easy to break out of the habits that he’s created since they got together and start allowing himself to be more vulnerable around Charles, but he knows that, in order for their relationship to work, he will have to make an effort and meet the other boy halfway instead of doing everything for him.

He feels Charles place a gentle kiss on the corner of his jaw before burying his face on his neck and squeezing his waist, and he places a kiss on the Monégasque’s hair, resting his cheek on it and closing his eyes. 

Max knows, deep in his heart, that they will figure things out. Their lives have been intertwined since they were kids, leading them to finding each other again and they will never let go.


End file.
